


The Interview

by archea2



Series: Old Tales Twice Told [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossover, Humor, Oscar Wilde Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Mycroft interviews John a la Lady Bracknell. Hints of Mystrade.</p><p>Written to fill a prompt asking for a crossover/fusion with Oscar Wilde's <i>The Importance of Being Earnest</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interview

**Mycroft** : Do take a seat, Doctor Watson. A man needn't actually stand trial on his feet: literalism, perish the thought, is one letter away from liberalism.  
  
**John**   _(standing)_ : I'm all fine, Mr Holmes.  
  
**Mycroft** : I'm afraid you do not feature on my list of eligible flatmates for Sherlock, one that I share with the dear detective inspector. However, I'm quite willing to put you under surveillance, should you prove sufficiently honorable. How old are you? No, you get a pass for this one. You're obviously forty-one.  
  
**John** : I'm thirty-fi...  
  
Mycroft: Quite so.  _(Anthea types quickly.)_ Do you drink?  
  
John: Christ, no! But if you really must know, I have a sist—  
  
Mycroft: A cystic leg, yes, yes, I've noticed.  _So_  demanding, legs, that's the lower classes for you. One wonders at Mother Nature, creating feet before chauffeurs - a muddled agenda if you ask me.  _(He checks his notes.)_  Now, it is my opinion that in order to survive my brother's company, one should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know, Doctor Watson?  
  
John  _(sarcastic)_ : Bit of column A, bit of column B?  
  
Mycroft: Excellent. I do not approve of radical measures as a rule; they always prove so oppressive to one's career. What is your income?  
  
John: Well, I have my army pension. But I'm currently, ah. Unemployed.  
  
Mycroft: A man of leisure, then.  _(He sizes John up.)_ Afghanistan or Iraq?  
  
John: Will you people bloody well stop asking that? I'm not a greyhound, for Chrissake!  
  
Mycroft  _(fondly)_ : Ah, I'm afraid this little endearment is already booked.  _(A light cough from Anthea.)_  You would share a city flat with Sherlock, of course; the dear boy can hardly be expected to reside in the countryside. _So_ unhygienic, all that unwashed grass and soil. The flat stands across Regent's Park, which I'm told has become quite sanitary now they've built four European business schools on its outskirt. What are your politics, Doctor Watson?  
  
John  _(grimly)_ : Haven't been back long enough to slap up some, Mr Holmes. Can I say my vote is for survival?  
  
Mycroft: Oh, but so is mine, my dear sir. Living above one's fellow creatures is a purpose to be encouraged by all means, although selectively. Now to minor matters. Are your parents still alive?  
  
John: Well, it all depends, really. Is the question literal? Or d'you take a liberal view of genealogy?  
  
Mycroft: ... I _beg_ your pardon?

John: Oh, I should have told you that Watson is really my sister's name. Harry had just turned eighteen when she found me —  
  
_(Anthea sneaks a glance at her lord and master's face and stops typing altogether.)_  
  
Mycroft: Found. _(An ominous silence.)_ Can I ask you to expatiate a little, Doctor?  
  
John: Glad to. She was travelling to Clara's place up North - Clara was her ex-wife-to-be, you see, worked in Derby at the time, so Harry would take the first train from St Pancras and have a snack at the station café. Which is where she found me, in an old gladstone bag. I was a month old at the time.  
  
Mycroft  _(mouthing the words as if possessed by_   _a demonic piece of toffee)_ : A gladstone bag.  
  
John: Yeah, I've kept the bag if you fancy a peep at the evidence. In fact, it's what got Sherlock interested in me - he likes the unusual cases, you know, and since there was also a gun in the bag —  
  
Mycroft: The gun is immaterial.  
  
John: Oh, I wouldn't quite say that. It's proved rather useful in the recent months.  
  
Mycroft: Doctor Watson, I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. A... bag-gentleman is hardly who I wish for Sherlock to associate with. I must regretfully state that this interview is over.  
  
John: Well, what can I do about this? I really want that flatshare, you know - and I could be the making of your brother, I could!  
  
Mycroft: Possibly. But I'd rather avoid having to introduce you to Mummy as the offshoot of a tearoom and a piece of artillery. She is very sensitive to the subject of firearms, has been ever since that wretched incident with Sherlock and the birthday koi carp. Anthea, would you be so kind as to drive Doctor Watson back? I have another candidate waiting.  
  
_Exit John with Anthea. Jim Moriarty saunters in._  
  
Ah, Mr...  _(Mycroft checks his notes.)_  Mr Hightea? Well, you do not feature on my list of eligible flatmates, one that I share with the dear detective inspector. But I'm certain this exception can be remedied - with you, at least, I'm guaranteed not to, ah. Buy a cat in a bag. Haha.  
  
_Jim smiles - a large, lissom, vastly feline smile - and takes the seat opposite to Mycroft's._


End file.
